


Tragicomedy or How to Get Bullets out of a Spaceship

by finchphobia



Category: Death to the Mechanisms - The Mechanisms (Album), The Mechanisms (Band)
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Yeah this is sad whoops, sorry about that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:08:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27920521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/finchphobia/pseuds/finchphobia
Summary: Jonny wrestles with his immortality.My submission for Aurora Blackbox, the Mechanisms Zine that raised almost $3000 for the Indigenous Mutual Aid Network!  I’m super proud of it and can’t wait to share.CONTENT WARNINGS FOR SUICIDE, INTRUSIVE THOUGHTS AND MILD MENTIONS OF ALCHOHOLISM
Relationships: Drumbot Brian & Jonny d'Ville
Comments: 2
Kudos: 33





	Tragicomedy or How to Get Bullets out of a Spaceship

**Author's Note:**

> Once again, content warning for mentions of suicide, intrusive thoughts and alcoholism throughout.

Jonny Dville always knew that he was unhinged - but now he had certainly hit a new low. He was used to toying with his own immortality, looking over the edge of the Aurora, wanting to jump into the abyss just to see where he would end up. Holding himself under the bath water just long enough for it to hurt his chest, only to emerge seconds later gasping for air. But despite it all - he had never taken it all the way. He had never crossed that fine line between life and death. But that temptation was always there, taunting Jonny, a beckoning hand in the dark. 

He was awake, or at least he thought he was. The darkness of his room was a strange comfort to him, before it was interrupted by a dull ache reverberating through the side of his skull. He gently placed his hand against the pain, wincing a little as he cradled it in an attempt to soothe himself. He swallowed, tossing his legs over the side of the bed, groaning as he got to his feet. Every inch of his body felt numb, groggy, as if his body was simply learning to be human again. He yawned, trying to get some oxygen to his brain in the hope that he could get a little bit of clarity. He trailed his hand across the wall as he guided himself to the light switch. His vision was well and truly fucked - to say the least. 

He awkwardly fumbled his hand against the wall, trying to find the light switch. Dammit - it should be here somewhere. Was this room even his own? He sighed, feeling the familiar switch, Jonny lazily flicking it. 

He held his hand in front of his eyes, squinting at the sudden light flooding the room. He tried to let his eyes adjust, his vision a little spotted by the new sight. He turned around. 

The wall was covered in blood. 

It was like some sort of art installation. The way the blood dispersed around one singular bullet dent. Jonny wished it was someone else's, but the sinking feeling in his chest assured him that he was correct. He had killed himself last night. He pulled the trigger, the one which he had only ever used to end the lives of others (and Tim that one time). This wasn’t fun anymore, there was a clear tension hanging in the air around his room. He was hot. He was sweating. He disgusted himself sometimes, and this was certainly one of those moments.

He walked a little closer, his fingers gently stroking the blood on the wall. He pulled his fingers away, looking down to inspect them. They were still stained with his blood - leaving Jonny to deduce that he had only been out for an hour or so. Why did immortality have to be so complicated? Sometimes he would be comatose for days - but today it seemed that he was pretty quick on the whole ‘coming-back-to-life’ front. Maybe the adrenaline had something to do with it. There weren’t exactly books on this subject.

Regardless of the reasons and motivations - Jonny’s quarters were a mess, and it wasn’t like the Aurora was going to clean it herself. He yawned, getting to the ground and crawling awkwardly under the bed. He had his cleaning supplies somewhere here. Bleach...Bleach would work - right? He wasn’t that experienced with cleaning the blood. He had never spilled it somewhere he cared about before. But he wasn’t about to spend the next few centuries with a reminder of the time he went fully unhinged and drove a bullet through his skull. He also didn’t want Aurora telling Nastya - and then Nastya proceeded to tease the shit out of him for the next three hundred or so years. Well...no amount of cleaning could control the Aurora. That bitch saw everything.

He sighed, yanking off his shirt and pulling it into a small bundle. He reached for the bleach, soaking his shirt in it. His shirts were easily replaceable, plus most of his clothing had bloodstains somewhere. This was hardly anything to worry about. The bleach might cancel out the bloodstains. Right? That was how science worked. He’d deal with it later. He climbed onto his bed, shuffling awkwardly so that he was close enough to the stain. He awkwardly started scrubbing, glad to see that most of it was transferring onto the shirt. He held his breath, the stench of bleach beginning to scare Jonny. What if he died again from the fumes? That would just be embarrassing. 

He kept scrubbing, eventually opting to use both hands to try and get off the last few stains. It looked to be working. It was a miracle the blood was still relatively fresh. He tried getting month old blood out of the wallpaper once. There was still a discoloured splotch to this day. Some stains truly stood the test of eternity. 

Jonny knelt back for a moment - taking a look at the wall. It looked...okay? Sure - if you spent a decent amount of time staring at it you would know something was up - but all in all it looked like nothing had happened. All that was left was to rescue the bullet lodged in the wall. He gave it a small tug, hoping that would be more than enough. Nothing happened. Not even a small movement. He grumbled to himself - it was well and truly stuck.

He wondered what would happen if he tried to tell Nastya or Tim that he misfired his gun into the wall. Nastya would believe him - at least for a while. She would take any opportunity to rip on Jonny. But that would mean Jonny would have to keep being reminded of this ‘episode’ - and that wouldn’t be fun at all. Tim wouldn’t believe him. Hell - Jonny hadn’t misfired in centuries at this point. Tim would definitely catch on. Look at him with pity in his eyes over dinner. Jonny Dville hated pity. 

Then it was decided. One way or another - he was getting this bullet out of the wall. He paced around the room for a moment, figuring out what he could use. Tweezers were out of the question, and he wasn’t about to go on a wild goose chase for pliers. Not yet - anyways. He looked around, grabbing a pen which he used to scrawl lyrics and the occasional doodle. He shoved it into the bullet hole, trying to create a makeshift lever situation. Giving it a quick pull, Jonny groaned at the sudden snap as the pen broke in his hand. He really liked that pen, too. 

He sighed, lying face up on the bed as if the ceiling was the most interesting thing in the world. He wanted to cry, just to remind himself that he could. He just wanted to feel something - anything. He felt so numb, as if he were invisible in the microcosm that was the Aurora. 

The Mechanisms were his family - the only ones he had, but he was so...disconnected nowadays. He guessed it was something akin to boredom. He never used to get bored, being a storyteller meant he had a thousand lifetimes he could remember if he tried. Jonny just wanted something new - something that made him feel like sticking around for another century or so. It wasn’t like he had a choice about it. Unfortunately, there wasn’t a pharmacist on board, so the only antidepressant on Jonny’s mind was hard whiskey. 

He swung over the side of his bed - dangling upside down to reach the bottle of liquor which he kept under his bed. As if right on cue - he heard a knock on the door. 

“Don’t come i-“ Jonny called, but the door swung open anyways. Apparently knocking didn’t mean anything anymore. 

“Captain! You were holed up in here all week so I thought i-“ The voice called, the sound of footsteps coming towards the stuck-upside-down Jonny. The footsteps stopped, so he forced himself to look to see the confused face of none other than Drumbot Brian.

Jonny tried to wave, losing his balance as he lifted his hand. He quickly realised that he looked like a mess. The bottle of liquor by his hands clearly didn’t create a flattering image. Brian paced forward, placing his arms underneath Jonny’s and hoisting him up onto the bed. He stared blankly at the robot, completely stumped of whatever to say next. Brian tilted his head “Jonny?” 

“Yes Brian?”

“Are you drunk?

Jonny grumbled a little. “No Brian. I am not drunk.” His voice was as deadpan as ever. He may have been before - but the reanimation process was enough to eradicate any trace of alcohol in his body 

“You look drunk. Are you sure you haven’t-?” Brian paused, clearly noticing something. Jonny looked up to follow Brian’s eyes, turning his head until they were both looking at the bullet lodged in the wall. “Oh no...No, no, no…Jonny...you didn’t-“ Brian mumbled, slowly beginning to pace the room. “Can I give you a hug?”

“You may not give me a fucking hug” 

“Please? I insist-" 

Jonny groaned. "I don't need a -" 

"Jonny Dville, you need a hug. Therefore - I am giving you a hug." Brian muttered, kneeling in front of the man and pulling him into a hug. Jonny grumbled a little. Well - he grumbled a lot, until he gave up and threw his arms around Brian, mumbling something about appreciating the gesture. Brian couldn't exactly make it out. Even if he did hear what Jonny was saying - he probably wouldn't believe him. Jonny was never one for such emotions. Such compliments.

Brian pulled away - surprised to find Jonny holding on a little reluctant as he did so. They pulled themselves apart, the two of them sitting next to each other at the side of the bed - staring at the wall (the one without a bullet in). The faint ticking of the clock echoed around them, the two of them sitting in silence for what felt like hours, although it was probably a minute at most. Maybe two. 

"You wanna tell me what happened?" 

"No."

"Are you sure?"

A pause.

"No." 

Jonny shifted in his seat. He wanted to talk. He wanted to be held, to be comforted and told that for once in his life - everything was going to be okay. But he wasn't sure if he had the words to explain all of that. And he wasn't sure if he had the nerve to admit that he wanted such a thing. 

"I wanna talk - Brian. I do...I'm just not sure I have the words."

"I'm a robot. If you need words - I'll be able to find them for you. Like our songs...you remember? When you didn't know how to spell 'resistance' or 'sphinx'?" Brian said, giggling a little as he gave Jonny a playful nudge, to which Jonny only smirked in response. "Now talk. Please? I'm here now." 

"Fine. I shot myself. In the head. And I died. On purpose." Jonny mumbled - trying his best to make it sound like the most casual thing in the world.

"I gathered that much."

"I know. It just feels weird admitting it. Give me credit for that, at least" 

"Fine. Fine. I'm proud of you. Admitting you have an issue is the first step to healing." 

"I don't 'have an issue' - rustbucket." Jonny muttered, trying on his best Brian impression. "I just killed myself. It's not that bad." 

"It is that bad. You committed suicide for fun. That's not a good thing. Nobody else does that." 

"Seriously?" 

"Nope. Mortals do it because they're sad or depressed and immortals just...don't." 

"You're joking" Jonny said, trying his best to laugh.

"No. People don't kill themselves for fun." 

Jonny shifted uncomfortably. "-Well it wasn't for fun. Not exactly"

"Then why?"

Another pause. More like four minutes this time. It was awkward. It hurt - the way the silence hung in the air like a thick smoke, one which choked Jonny. Suffocated him. 

He needed the words. He needed the words to ask Brian for the words. He knew so many words and lyrics and metaphors and none of them were any use to him. Not right now. Not like this.

"I was bored." 

"Huh? You're going to need to speak up - Jonny" 

"I was bored!" Jonny shouted now, his voice louder and laced with gravel "It's been years! Decades - even." Jonny paused, letting himself catch his breath. "Decades since I...felt something. I just wanted to feel something - to fall in love, to feel pain, loss, betrayal, anger. Just...something!"

Brian paused and took a moment to try and process what Jonny had said. There was a silence, and then a sigh. "Oh Jonny - you should have told me...You should have told us. You didn't tell Nastya?"

Jonny only shook his head. "You have to be joking. Nastya? I'm the captain of this ship! I can't just...tell people that I'm depressed. I can't. I have to be there for Nastya. For Tim. For you-" he paused, sighing heavily. "You shouldn't have to care about me. It's easier this way." 

You could see the hurt in Brian's eyes from a mile away. He looked softer than usual, despite his android exterior. "I could never...I could never ignore you. You're our captain - and if that means anything it's that we can't just let you suffer in silence." 

Jonny paused, flopping down against the mattress once more, wanting to break eye contact with Brian for a brief moment. Genuine connection with the pilot of his ship. A moment of friendship. It made him feel strange and warm and he wasn't sure if he liked it or not. "You're so stupid - Brian." he chuckled. "Absolutely batshit. You on MJE, by any chance?"

"Oh gods no. I've been on EJM for the last century. The end goal is for you to be comfortable as our captain, to be able to talk to us freely. And this is simply the easiest way to get there. Just because the ends justify the means doesn't mean I have to always be a killing machine." 

Jonny pouted. "But I like it when you're a killing machine-"

"But sometimes this is the easiest way, Jonny."

"What? By talking? I don't believe that for a second." 

"By talking." Brian nodded. "Apparently that's what mortals do, after all." 

"You're taking advice from mortals - Botbot? You really have gone soft."

"Botbot? That's a new one-" Brian remarked. 

"Is it? I've called you that in my head for the last decade." Jonny said, sticking his tongue out.

"Huh - maybe I could call you Jonjon?" Brian said with a small smile.

"You saw what happened to Toy Soldier when it called me that." 

"Alas - perhaps I am different."

"You are not." 

Brian chuckled, glad that Jonny had the potential to make such jokes again. "Fine...Fine...So why don't we head out for some breakfast?" 

Jonny nodded, rolling over lazily and getting to his feet. "Yeah. Breakfast." he agreed, pushing some stray hairs out from his eyes. 

Brian held the door open for Jonny with a grin. 

Jonny smiled, heading out and ruffling Brian's hair. "And...thank you - by the way."

**Author's Note:**

> It feels like every time I put out a fic, I promise I’ll write more. I love writing and AO3 but I’m such a perfectionist that I only put out a fic every four months or something. I plan on writing gift fics for the holidays so hopefully that can change things? Maybe? Who knows. Thanks for reading though. Seriously.


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